


Kiss My Scars

by Ambie (noonvvraith)



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 09:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noonvvraith/pseuds/Ambie
Summary: It's not the first time Rose tries to see Jacob's scars, but it's the first time he doesn't hold back.





	Kiss My Scars

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for @fantasmagoriam - a darling friend on tumblr. Deputy Rose Dravić belongs to her.

It was a hazy morning. Clouds of fog lazily curled down the hillside as the country slept - tall spruces gently swaying in the fresh breeze, the first sun rays breaking the dawn with the crimson light. Not everyone was asleep though, not in the solitary lookout tower that overlooked the mountains.

Rose stirred in the bed, alarmed to the emptiness on the other side of her bed. She murmured, half-asleep, as she turned around, fumbling with the bedsheets.

“Are you still up?” She spoke silently towards the silhouette sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come to sleep.”

Jacob was sitting with his back towards her, his shirt on and his shoulders slumped, but there was a trace of underlying tension in his muscles. One all too familiar. She was getting used to it by now.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes.” He lied. It was almost believable, mind him, were it not for the fact she was already familiar with the tone of his voice whenever he tried to avoid a question. “I just can’t sleep.”

“Were you having nightmares again?”

He nodded and then turned around, giving her a rather emotion-less look, or more importantly, was _ trying _to. “I’ll be fine. They are just dreams.”

She sat up by this point, unfazed by his stare. “You don’t _ seem _fine.” She laid a hand upon his shoulder and felt his muscles twitch under her touch, then relax. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Nothing good will come out of that.” His body tensed and he closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her again, an unknown softness in his eyes. “But thank you.”

Was he… really thanking her? “Will you come to bed then at least?”

He sighed, but her tone was adamant. He looked at the inviting bed sheets, at _ her_, cold skin hidden in the linens, her form imprinted in his mind with such an ineffable certainty.

“Alright.” He whispered and crawled back next to her. 

She circled her arms around him, head resting on his chest. After a while, she felt the touch of his hand caressing her back, if a bit hesitant at start, but much more reassuring now. He was warm, so unbelievably _ warm_, and she was half a mind to kick her bed sheets away from the heat. 

There were times when she would have to wait before touching him in such a way. It was almost absurd, after all the passionate times and heated nights - the way his muscles tensed when she attempted to cuddle next to him, as if such a show of intimacy was inadmissible for him. She slowly learned to look for a sign in his behavior, the way his body - his eyes - talked, rather than his words, to know when was the right time to caress his back gently or lay her head upon his chest. 

Jacob grew more open with time as well, as slowly as could be, but nevertheless. He still stopped some of her advances sharply, namely whenever she tried to touch any of his scars, but he was much more relaxed anytime else. There was such an inexplicable hint of satisfaction whenever she reached to cup his face and he didn’t flinch back, even so when he returned the gesture with such a rare softness in his eyes. It was as if Jacob Seed was a man who wore a mask his whole life and taking it aside was almost impossible for him - _ almost_, provided she was near.

They laid like that for a while, silence disturbed only with soft breaths, their bodies warm against each other. Outside, the world carried on, mercifully oblivious to anything that was happening inside the lookout tower.

She circled his chest, fingers tiptoeing across the fabric of his shirt. He was always wearing it, _ insisted _on wearing it, so she couldn’t see his scars. “You are still tense.” She said softly. “Are you sure you don’t want to--”

“No.” He cut her off, but his voice wasn’t sharp, if anything, it was unusually quiet. 

She never had the chance to see his scars - to see _ him _in his entirety - before. He always grasped her hand firmly whenever she attempted to slide it under his shirt. He became less strict over time, though, and there was something about his gaze now, the way he stared at her intently as she drew patterns across his heart, almost without a breath, waiting, watching. 

Will she dare to expose me again?

Will he stop me this time? What is he afraid of anyway?

What will she _ think _? 

I’m sure it’s not as awful as _ he thinks_. It’s just scars - memories, nothing else.

Will she be disgusted? She must be disgusted… Why do I worry about that?

Maybe he even wants me to see them. But is he afraid? Is Jacob Seed _ afraid _?

Why do I care about her? What if she runs away? Why am I afraid of that?

If only he trusted me. He has nothing to fear. I want to help.

She will run away. Will she? Do I want to risk that? I don’t want her to go. 

A sudden gasp when her fingers curled beneath the fabric, and an abrupt silence.

She paused, looking him in the eyes, but there was no trace of the firmness in him, no hand grasping her palm, only the sheer, almost unbelievable display of _ vulnerability _. She felt his body tense under her touches, but this was a different kind of tension, almost on the verge of curiosity, fear and… satisfaction.

She pulled his shirt off gently and he didn’t oppose this time. Instead he watched her, her body wreathed in soft sunlight of the morning, her eyes gazing at his chest.

Will she run? Will she run now?

She let out a gasp, but not one of disgust. She looked him in the eyes and then: “I’m sorry.”

He returned her gaze for a while, then a little part of him broke. “You should not have seen it.” He said harshly, reaching for his shirt, but she stopped him.

With a palm gently pressed across his chest, she leaned in and whispered: “No. I’m glad I did. I’m glad _ someone _saw.”

She then began to trace the scars with her fingers - running along the deep forgotten wounds and the painful memories. Her touch was tantalizing, made him shudder, but in a pleasant way. He looked at her face, at her trained, focused gaze as she worked her way across his deeply scarred chest - almost as scarred as his mind - making sure she didn’t miss an inch. 

This was wrong. Why isn’t she disgusted? It’s not a pleasant look. Why is she still here? Why is--

What she did was almost unexpected. She watched him intently, as if waiting for a permission - one she must have received for his gaze was soft and vulnerable - he was there in front of her, with all his imperfections, and she never closed her eyes.

Her lips were soft and warm when she caressed his skin and her touch was healing, making all the pain go away at least for a moment. She kissed his scars gently, starting right above his collarbone and working her way downwards. She looked at him repeatedly, to see whether she was going way too far, but always satisfied by the look of pleasure in his face. She was doing well. A gasp, an uncharacteristic gesture coming from him, when she curled her tongue across the long, thick scar above his belly button, licking it thoroughly. His fingers in her hair as he stroked her gently, never as much as breaking eye contact. She was unbelievable. Her mouth hot on his skin, her touch soft, her presence… healing.

“Tell me,” she said gently when she was done, crawling on top of him, his arms hugging her back, “how long was it before anyone touched you like this?”

He stared into her eyes and his mask faltered. “A long time.” He admitted. 

“So I thought.” She whispered, laying her head upon his chest again, his muscles relaxed now, with a newfound tranquility in his body - and soul. 

She didn’t run. She saw my scars and she didn’t run. I wanted her to stay.

And he was glad she did.


End file.
